NIGHTMARE
by Esmerelda01-is-Esme-Brett
Summary: An . . . alternative . . . oneshot that [sort of] marches to the beat of a Happily Ever After story. WARNING. I did say ‘sort of.’ Be lovely and read and review it, woncha?


_**Howdy. **_

_**This mediator oneshot ROCKS. Wanna know why? It has HORSES. That's right. It's just THAT cool.**_

_**However, I'd just like to warn you that a certain scene of this fic is based LOOSELY around one of the most brilliant books in the world; Susan Kay's "PHANTOM." But more about that (including disclaimers,) at the bottom.**_

xxx

He wouldn't tell me.

Closed as the grave.

Just bundled me into his car and told me it was a surprise.

"Where are we going?" I questioned playfully, for what seemed like the hundredth time. "Come on . . . Why won't you tell me? Jesse . . ."

Visions of some serious _Jesse and Suze alone time_ filled my head and I sighed happily.

"You can tell me . . ." I wheedled, "I won't freak out, or anything."

He exhaled, not taking his eyes off the road. "OK."

I grinned to myself.

"But only if you don't, as you say, 'freak out'."

"Yeah, yeah—"

"Look, see that sign up there? What does it say?"

I squinted to read the wooden sign as it came into sight. "Fairbrook stables." I muttered, as the sign flashed past. "Two miles."

He said nothing. "STABLES???" I freaked out. "Jesse, are you INSANE???" No WONDER Cee Cee had laughed when Jesse told her where we were going. "Like, as in, that _Horse_?"

"Yes."

Great. Of late Jesse had taken a real shining to some horse. He'd hooked it off the vets when Spike needed vitamin supplements. He saved the horse from becoming dog meat, sure. But I was left trying to get Spike to swallow the damn tablets.

My arms still have the scratches.

So now he was taking me to this 'Fairbrook' where his horse was boarded so we could get _acquainted_, or whatever. It's A HORSE, for Christ's sake. It SMELLS. As far as I was concerned, the horse suited its name. Nightmare.

I sunk down in my car seat and groaned. Out of all the animals in the world, Jesse has to rescue one that _smells_.

"Susannah, you just need some practise."

"It will bite me." I protested.

"No _she _won't."

"It will kick me."

"_She, _Susannah. _She _will kick you."

"SEE???" I cried. Jessie sighed, but didn't slow down, or stop the car, or any such thing. He was determined to get me on this stupid horse.

"No," he corrected patiently. "I mean, SHE, not IT. And SHE _won't_ kick you. Please, Querida?"

I pulled my sunglasses down over my eyes and glared out the window. "You suck." I mumbled, something he chose to ignore.

Twenty minutes later we pulled up. "Where is everyone?" I thought out loud as I climbed out of the car.

It was a big building, green, and it smelt, _predictably_, like HORSE. It had a big sandy paddock to the right of where we were parked, with random letters around the edge. "**A**. F. B. M. **C**. H. E. K." I read. "What the hell?"

"The riding school is closed today." Jesse answered my first question, coming around and taking my hand. "And the letters are for dressage. Susannah, just come. Nightmare wont hurt you."

"Yeah?" I mumbled, powerless to refuse him as he pulled me towards the building that smelt like horse. "What son of a gun named it Nightmare then?"

"HER. Named HER Nightmare."

If Jesse ever needed proof I loved him—just in case going back in time didn't quite do the trick—this would certainly cinch the deal.

"I love you." I said as he unlocked the door and held it open and I stepped tentatively inside.

"I know." He replied. "And while that feeling is happily reciprocated, Querida, I would have carried you here if need be."

I lingered by the door and took a deep breath. "You want me to meet _her—" _though in my head I was thinking furiously, _it, it, it . . ._Let it not be said that I don't make an effort. "—That bad, huh?"

"Yes." He took my arm and guided me down the concrete isle. There were stalls on either side and I jumped as a big grey head popped over the bottom door of one. Jesse paused and went over to the grey horse. I kept my distance.

This thing was massive. If I were in there, standing next to him—fat chance—my head would be at his SHOULDER. Yet his head was hanging low over the stall, allowing Jesse to caress his face. "Hey boy." Jesse murmured. "Hows the hoof?"

. . . I hope he didn't expect the horse to answer him.

"Hoof?" I questioned, from my hiding place behind Jesse.

"Dickie here went lame a couple days ago. Stone bruise."

"Ouch." I said, moving up to the big grey and thinking if it was anything like the blisters I got from those Jimmy Choo's, I could totally understand. I cautiously extended my hand and patted him gently on the neck.

Jesse murmured his agreement. With a last pat for Dickie, he turned and headed further down the aisle. I followed, shooting Dickie a glance back over my shoulder. "Of course," Jesse added as we continued through the stable, "you caught Dickie on a nice day. You should have seen him before he went lame. You couldn't keep him still. No vice in him, I mean, he's not nasty . . . but he's more spirited. You'll have to come back and see him once he's healed."

I was shocked to find I wouldn't mind coming back to see Dickie.

_Just_ Dickie though.

"This," Jesse announced, showing me into a dark room and flicking on the lights, illuminating row after row of saddles and rugs and such other pieces, "Is the tack room." He walked to the back and picked up a bridle, "This is a bridle—"

"I know. I interrupted. "I'm not a total idiot. I have watched Seabiscut, you know."

"Of course." He amended smoothly. "Right. Grab that bucket there, Nightmare's one . . ."

I grabbed the red bucket with NIGHTMARE written in bold black lettering and followed Jesse out of the tack room and out of the building, right to one of the far paddocks, where he stopped.

"Stay here." He instructed. "I'll bring her out."

I thought, _suits me, _and as Jesse opened the gate and walked into the paddock, I leaned on the gate; finally curious about what was so great about this horse.

When it came trotting into view, I admitted it was beautiful. A sleek, shiny black colour, and while it wasn't as big as Dickie, it was big enough. Dickie was solider, too. More muscly. This thing was fine boned, and looked as though it would break with any undue exertion. It had a pretty head, as well. Scooped, dished. It pranced up to Jesse and I heard him laugh as he slipped a halter on it.

He turned back to lead it to me, not taking his eyes of it, but when they were about six meters away from me, the horse spotted me, and planted it's feet, refusing to move. Jesse clucked gently, and when it flat out refused to take another step, he started to appeal to it. Murmuring gently, in a reassuring tone, it finally stepped towards the gate.

"Susannah." Jesse said. "This is Nightmare. Nightmare, this is Susannah."

Inwardly, I scoffed. I loved Jesse more than life, but what'd he expect the horse to do? Say, "Pleased to meet you." ??

Childishly, I said, "Pleased to meet you Nightmare." And held a hand out over the fence for it to sniff, as I'd seen Jesse do before. Regally, it inspected my hand, before turning away in obvious disdain.

Dissed by a horse.

How wonderful.

It was then the horse ceased to be an IT to me, and became a SHE.

"Nightmare is—" Jesse lectured me as he turned the horse back around, so she wasn't being such a rude little bitch to me. "—An purebred Arabian endurance horse—"

Right. A purebred snob.

"—She's six years old, so quite young, a mare, which mean girl, and obviously, black."

Duh. NIGHTblack. MARE girl. I DID watch Seabiscut, you know!!! And . . . I would definitely recommend it. Perfect for situations such as this.

"Querida . . ." he said cautiously, alerting me to the idea that whatever he was going to ask, I wasn't going to like it.

"Yes Jesse?" I said brightly.

"Would you mind holding Nightmare, just for a moment? I just need to fill up her water."

I was right. I didn't like it.

"Ok." I said, determined to prove that I wasn't as PETTY as her. He handed me the lead rope and I took it with a smile.

I was competing with a horse.

Ridiculous, I know.

The moment Jesse left, Nightmare put her head down and started scraping the ground with her hoof. "Cut it out" I muttered. She pawed even more frantically. "Fine!" I sniffed. "Scrape the ground then. Stupid horse. See if I care."

"Susannah!!!" Called Jesse from his position with the hose and the water bucket, about five meters away from me, "Please, try not to let her paw, the farrier only just did her feet."

Nightmare threw her head in the air at the sound of Jesse's voice and wheeled away from me, pulling the rope out of my hands and running—Cantering, I knew was the term. How? . . .Seabiscut—back to Jesse.

"Hey, hey!" he said soothingly, as he deftly caught the end of her rope. "Don't worry." He said over his shoulder to me. He gathered Nightmare's rope in one hand and continued to fill the bucket as she looked on, flicking her tail around.

I opened the gate and slipped into the paddock, drawn towards the soft sound of Jesse's voice as he murmured nonsense to his horse. He didn't notice my presence—he was completely absorbed—but the horse did. She flicked her head and stared at me with hostility.

_What do you think YOU'RE doing? _She seemed to be saying. _We don't need you, go away!! _I made no move and she tossed her head again, and shifted her weight from foot to foot, seemingly readying herself for a battle.

She suddenly leapt forwards, knocking the water bucket out of Jesse's hands. "My darling!" he protested laughingly. The love expressed in just those two words made me feel like I'd been doused in cold water, but I was glued to the spot in my near voyeurism.

He's completely forgotten I'm here, I realised. Nightmare hadn't, though. I had a sneaking suspicion this was all for my benefit.

He rightened the bucket, only to have her kick it over again, pushing herself against him relentlessly, refusing to be relegated to second place. I watched him run his hand repetitively down her body, over her neck and shoulder, rubbing the underside of her neck, until the animal was stretching her neck and nibbling air in an unspoken demand for more. She twisted her body, a glossy flex of sinuous muscle, and leaned into his hand, forcing him to rub harder, to continue to stroke and manipulate her flesh.

My own body went rigid in jealousy, but I made no sound, just kept silent and still in my self inflicted torture.

Jesse switched his attentions to the arc of her back, running his hand along it in a swooping, sensual caress that made the animal arch her back in unashamed ecstasy.

I knew the tingling heat those hands could bring, having experienced them on my own body. When he pinched the top of her spine and then ran his locked finger down her spine, I could see the exact, firm but gentle handling in which he would touch me.

When he reached up and kissed the hollow above her eye, I found my stomach and fists clenched in anger.

Jesse still had his back to me, but Nightmare could see me. She regarded me with eye's half closed in shameless pleasure.

. . . Nightmare indeed.

She let her eyelids close fully, no longer regarding me as a threat. It was clear who took precedence here.

And it was the horse.

How utterly depressing.

Jesse suddenly stopped his ministrations of the horse, and walked, along with her, back to me and I made an effort to control myself.

She was a horse, for god sakes! A HORSE!!! I was feeling so envious. But . . . She was a _horse_, after all. A beautiful, possessive . . . horse.

"Isn't she beautiful, Querida?" he asked me smilingly, completely clueless as to what scheming, domineering _bitch_ his pet was.

"Very nice." I responded appropriately.

"I wouldn't have believed anyone could abandon her." He said, his face twisted in disgust.

I could believe it. Quite easily.

"She's an endurance horse." Jesse explained, "And—"

"Yes I think you have mentioned that once or twice." I said, trying to sound light and teasing.

He smiled sheepishly. "Anyhow. She had a condylar fracture."

"A WHAT?"

"The condylar is the rounded end of the cannon. The cannon—" he said as I opened my mouth, "Is a bone in the horse's leg," he bent down and indicated the bone under discussion. "Thankfully, the fracture was relatively uncomplicated, and she's had surgery—hence the vet's—but the healing process was uncertain, and the owner just left her at the vets. Here." He invited me over to them, "Come take a look."

"Oh, no," I protested vehemently, 'I'm … I'm fine, I believe you."

No WAY was I getting anywhere near her. She stood quietly beside Jesse, regarding me with contempt, and no WAY was I going to be getting close to her.

"So," Jesse said. "How would you feel about getting on her?"

Um . . . About the same as I'd feel about walking into a burning building to save Spike.

In other words . . . "Not keen." I answered.

"Would it help if you watched me on her first?"

I forced a smile and shrugged. I had no intention whatsoever of getting on Nightmare, but I was curious about seeing Jesse ride. Like when I went back in time and saw him with his horse as he put it in the O'Neil's barn. Horses were a part of Jesse's 1800 life. I had to see this, no matter how horrible.

"Go." I answered, and handed him the bridle. He unbuckled the bit of the halter that went around her nose and slid it down on her neck as he slipped the metal bit of the bridle in her mouth, and the leather up over her head and ears, then he unbuckled the bit of the halter that was hanging down off her neck, behind her ears, dropped that, then did up the leather of the bridle that hung under her throat, tested it by slotting his fingers in to make sure it wasn't too tight, then quick as a . . . a mongoose, swung himself up on her back and looked down at me.

"I, er . . . don't you want . . .um—"

"The saddle? I thought I'd leave it off today."

" . . . ok, then." I said slowly.

He turned the horse and did some big circles out in her paddock, as a warm up, I assumed. He moved so well with the horse . . . they didn't move like two separate beings in close contact, they moved _together_. His long legs curved round her sides as Nightmare walked where he directed, in a long, springy looking walk.

And after ten or so minutes of walking and jogging, (Trotting, whatever,) in random patterns and directions, Jesse clucked to her and I saw him shift his weight on her back and she shifted into that cantering thing. He rocked with her in a repetitive, almost erotic movement, and I was mesmerised.

Perfect timing and partnership, a balance of control. Jesse urged her forward with his seat and legs, and she broke into the fast run. The gallop. Jesse leaned low on her back and flew around the paddock, adjusting his entire body to move in harmony with hers. My mouth fell open.

He slowed her down before she'd even started to sweat, and he brought her back towards me then pulled her to a halt. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" he asked me.

Ok, I fully wasn't watching her. I was busy admiring the way you moved on a horse, would have been my honest answer. Instead I said. "Yeah. Gorgeous." He swung off her back and smiled proudly.

"Listen, Jesse . . ." I said as he walked her in some small circles to cool her off, though she was hardly even breathing heavily. I on the other hand, was having trouble drawing enough breath to remain upright. "I think I might . . .head off—"

"What?" He looked like a schoolboy who'd just dropped his ice cream in the dirt. "But I really wanted you to come fro a ride with me."

I was going to say NO. I really was. I was going to open my mouth and say that single syllabled, common, two lettered, word in the English language. Instead I said another common, two lettered word in the English language. "OK."

Twenty, maybe thirty minutes later, Jesse had a whole lotta leather on a big chestnut horse for him, (apparently he didn't want to stress Nightmare too much . . . Whereas I personally thought the whole problem would be solved if Nightmare would just drop dead.) And a whole lot of leather on this grey horse for me.

He told me it was Dickie's mummy, but I didn't believe him. What, because they were both grey I was supposed to believe they were related? Whatever.

Jesse had to lift me in the saddle (no way was I going to climb,) but other than that I made it to the riverside thingy Jesse had lead me to, relatively unscathed—if you don't count when my horse walked under a low branch and I didn't have time to duck. Which I don't.

"Ok." I said, as Jesse came over to lift me down off the horse. "This is a very lovely . . . Green place, Jesse, but, well . . ."

I really wasn't capable of dwelling on anything other than my own personal hell.

The floor of my world had just been ripped out from under me and I was overbalancing.

"I brought you here for a reason, Querida."

"Yeah." I muttered. "So I could visit your psycho horse."

Not that it hasn't been fun . . .

Yeah. And Mary ate her little lamb.

"Querida, have a seat."

I looked around. WHERE??? There was nothing except—surely he didn't think . . . ?

I must love him. I thought grimly, as I gingerly sat down on a rock. Not that he'd care if a snake slithered out from behind it and poisoned me, he'd probably just be all, 'Oh well. Now I am free to spend the rest of my life with my one TRUE love, the light of my life, that magnificent mammal 'o' mine with four legs . . .'

Jesse didn't love me. He tricked me into resurrecting him just so he could be with this . . . this, NIGHTMARE!!

I had been trying so hard to keep all expression off my face, for fear he'd guess that I was uncomfortable, jealous and just plain miserable, but I guess I hadn't been doing all that well at it, because Jesse walked over and put a comforting around me.

"I know this isn't really your idea of fun, Susannah, but I . . ."

I zoned out. It was probably just more about his _purebred Arab endurance horse _anyway.

The stomach curling pain I had felt upon watching Jesse with his horse . . . Actual physical torment . . . The unbearable beauty mixed with inexcusable envy, it wasn't _right_ . . .

It was bordering on unreal. A bad dream. A . . . Nightmare.

The kind of beautiful dream you have, where words fail you to describe just how perfect it is . . . then everything starts to change. The dream warps, turns ugly. The shadows begin to take form and you find hideous apparitions where before there was only unbearable perfection.

I couldn't have him forever. I realised that now. There was bound to be something, one day. Today, that thing was Nightmare; beautiful, wilful and insatiable . . .

Since that night in 1850, I had been living in a dream world. If I'd thought about it, I would have known it wouldn't last. The darkness was slinking around in the shadows, just waiting to achieve dominance.

I'd discovered _my_ nightmare, and in it, _his_ Nightmare, and now I had to surrender the thing I loved most in the world with it. With her.

Perhaps there was no such thing as happily ever after.

Could it be that I wasn't the most important thing to him anymore? That the perfection had ebbed away, leaving a more barren truth?

"Susannah!!! Did you hear me?" Jesse sounded unusually strained.

"Umm, what?" I said, blinking.

"I just asked, _Will you marry me_??' It was then I noticed he was looking a little green around the gills, like he'd swallowed—

Wait.

_Will you marry me?_

I opened my mouth about to spit out the only answer I'd ever contemplated when Jesse asked me this, then I closed it again.

_Could I handle it?_ a few moment's, no seconds ago I pitying myself that I as no longer the centre of Jesse's world. But . . . perhaps it was time. Could I do that? Could I be mature enough to accept that I could no longer be the centre of Jesse's world? Could I slightly away from the spotlight?

The answer was YES. For a different reason. For the children yet to come, and for love itself, I could do it, I could share.

Jesse and I had moved past the childish love (Me EXTREMELY recently!) that cocoon's and swallows . . . and into a more comfortable happiness.

But with love the same strength.

Suddenly it all came into perspective. The stages of love, the maturity of a real relationship. The importance of other things.

"Querida, I love you," Jesse was saying, "more than anything—"

"No Jesse." I said with newfound clarity. Then as I saw his expression, I quickly modified it. "Not 'NO' I won't marry you, but 'NO' I don't _want _you to love me more than anything. I don't _want_ you to love me more than our children, or life. I know you love me. And I love you. But . . ." I trailed off, thinking. "You knew this all along didn't you?" I accused, smiling. "That's why you brought me."

"I'm sorry," Jesse said, " Susannah, I don't know what you're—"

"Never mind." I said happily. "YES."

He looked baffled.

It couldn't be_ just_ us forever, but it could still _be_ us. It was just . . . a different stage in our relationship. No longer the first honeymoon . . . instead, the second.

"YES," I clarified, "I'll marry you."

Relief crossed his face. He bent down and kissed me, softly and lovingly. "I wont love our children more than you. I'll love them just as much."

I smiled.

A REAL Happily ever after is different from how it's always imagined. That's why no one thinks they've achieved it, why they keep yearning for a fairytale ending . . .When really; it's just in a different form.

It's the stuff of _nightmares_ AND dreams.

. . . That's why it's real.

xxx

**DISCLAIMER: All Mediator characters that you recognise belong to Meg Cabot. And the scene involving Nightmare, Jesse and the water bucket was based, (loosely, mind,) on a scene from Susan Kay's PHANTOM.**

xxx

_**What actually happens in this scene from PHANTOM—which I keep referring to—is that Erik is playing his piano, and Christine, (whom Erik has just recently kidnapped, sorta) sneaks in to watch him. The cat, Aiesha, sees her and disturbs Erik, and then starts . . . basically flirting with him. "Only an animal would have dared disrupt him so, and only an animal would have received such indulgence in return" And then Christine gets all jealous of a cat. **_

_**Anyway, those of you who have read PHANTOM will know just how loosely that water bucket scene was based; I was really just imitating a short sequence of events and the occasional phrase which the scene would be meaningless without.** _

_**Those of you who haven't read PHANTOM need to know what a wonderfully talented writer Susan Kay is, ensuring her characters (including cats) have an emotional depth and sensuality I just HAD to try and emulate. **_

_**But I'm proud to say that everything else between jesse and the horse was all my own, as was Nightmare (the horse) and nightmare (the concept). : D **_

_**Also, I didn't specify any ages (I thought I'd leave that to you lovely people,) but old enough to get married, young enough to be jealous of a horse.**_

_**REVIEW ME OR I WILL CRY. lol.**_

_**Mariah**_


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